Rider Application: The Wisdom of a Picky Rider

The evening got off to a rocky start. No, not as in the town Rocky, but it was just as desolate. An evening could not be cheery and on the way to happiness when one is faced with such a critical decision. As I heaved my last bit of equipment out, I had to finally face the problem. In front of me stood two very appealing options. But, how can one choose? It really isn't fair. 

So I did what I do best; I procrastinated. I shoved the problem aside and continued with the task at hand. I followed the instructions to a T...well, as well as a person who despises reading instructions can follow instructions to a T. It was almost too simple. Maybe that's why my taste test tasted an awful lot like horse food. After shoving my latest cupcakes into the oven whilst praying for a miracle to turn my horse cupcakes into a mouth-watering culinary experience, I had to return to my problem. Procrastination was over.

Wine or coffee? The wine smelled refreshing and tart. And, the coffee smelled so comforting. It wasn't until the fire alarm startled me from my quandaries that I began to explore my options. As I was fanning the screaming smoke detector, I realized that I could have both. Problem solved, kitchen filled with smoke, and a happy coffee and wine drinking misplaced rider, it was another ordinary evening.I managed to veer from a Rocky destination to a Cookietown destination.

Twenty minutes of waiting time really does give a baker a chance to do fun things besides singing along to Frank Sinatra and Tom Waits. I browsed the lovely internet for motorcycle parts. I hate shopping. Unless I ran out of coffee, I'd rather shoot nails into my foot with a pneumatic nail gun than go shopping. But, when it comes to motorcycles, that dreading sense of doom which views nail guns as happy shopping alternatives doesn't hover above me. It gets even better when I'm actually able to order stuff for Blueberry. New visor and brakes all around ordered, kitchen aired out, and I still had 15 minutes to kill.

In my six years of riding, I've always had amazing luck running across a few decent riders on a regular basis. Living in a military town, riding buddies come and go. It's a fact of Lawton life. It's probably in the Universal Book of Lawton Law that awesome riding buddies are destined to move. I think it's just life's way of keeping me on my toes. How does one find a decent riding buddy? Honestly, all of my awesome partners in crime have been purely by chance. I mean who would have expected to find an awesome riding buddy just cruising through the refuge? Most would probably say that gas stations are always full of riders. True, but my luck with the gas station riders hasn't been so good, statistically speaking.And, I do love statistics...

In my six years, when it comes to riding buddies I really have experienced the good, the bad, and, unfortunately, the ugly. Over the years, I have joked about needing an application to allow people to apply to be a future riding buddy. A great way to help the riding buddy cause when Serendipity is mad at me. Others have joked that I need such an application since I'm so picky. Now, I'm not usually a picky person, but when it comes to the riding company I keep, I've gotten just a tad bit picky. In my smoke doused sugar high, there really wasn't a better time-filler than creating just such an application.

So in all its potentially offensive glory, here is my application:

And, lastly please note: I don't want to hear about all your modifications because I do not care.

No multiple choice here, yo. Which is a convenient way to test if people can read and write also.
This blog is brought to you by the lovely (biased opinion, we know) Stone Turtle – Lodging, a small family owned and operated hotel / lodging business near Lawton, Oklahoma, Fort Sill,  the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge, Meers and Medicine Park. Yeah, that’s right we’re a small lodging business close to all the awesomeness Oklahoma has to offer!!

Attack of the Cupcakes

I don't believe I've ever mentioned my escapades in the kitchen. I'm no Martha Stuart or Rachel Ray, that's for sure. In fact, most of my baking/cooking attempts are labeled with the word disaster at the end. Some of the highlights:

The Schnitzel Disaster of 2008
The Waffle Disaster of 2009
The Biscuit Disaster of 2009
The Waffle Incident of 2010- Not quite as bad as the Waffle Disaster of 2009.
The Potato Disaster of 2007 - This involved a microwave fire.
The Noodle Disaster of 2011- Where'd all the water go?
The Pancake Disaster of 2009
The Pound Cake Disaster of 2010- it weighed a whole heck-of-a-lot more than a pound

Those were the highlights. Cooking usually involves a fire alarm. I haven't made it through very many cooking attempts without a fire alarm going off. It's not cooking until the fire alarm goes off, at least that's what I thought while growing up watching my mom cook...

Practice makes perfect, right? God, I sure hope so!

Recipes and I don't get along very well. Recipes want to do one thing, I want to do another. Since I'm usually on a coffee (and coffee song) high, I'm usually able to rationalize why not to follow the recipe. And off into experimentation I drift. 

So what was I doing standing in the kitchen at an ungodly hour jamming out to Frank Sinatra, Tom Waits, and the Balkan Beat Box? I just couldn't resist a recipe for snickerdoodle cupcakes. Who could? I didn't know what a snickerdoodle was, but it sounded whimsical and fun, so I snickered and doodled it up. Turns out that snickerdoodling got a little more complicated than I thought when the recipe (there's that pesky business again) called for scooping balls of batter (batter can be balls?) out and rolling them in cinnamon butter. I have to make cinnamon butter?!? 

Um, I think not. So instead of rolling batter in butter, I decided to fill the muffin tins and pour cinnamon butter over the muffins. I stuck the butter in the microwave and zapped it fluid. It wasn't long before a funky smell permeated the air and a rumbling sound emitted from the microwave. I can't say I was surprised, but I really wasn't expecting the volcanic buttery eruption which I encountered. I guess leaving the butter lava in the microwave would actually be an easy way to butter my next meal. I'm sure I'm not the only one who despises working with butter. Such a microwave would allow a simple way to dispense butter on any meal. Where's a patent office when you need one?

Since I have no idea what snickerdoodles taste like, I can't compare and contrast. Considering my guinea pigs I mean friends haven't dropped dead, I think the recipe's a keeper. Motorcycle cupcake holder please! Ya know, so the cupcakes only attack my hips and not my riding time. 

I seriously just have too much fun

Destiny. That's right, Blueberry and I were just meant to be.

 Enjoyed my Sunday afternoon riding through the refuge and having coffee with the family!

Just another ride

As I'm riding down my road in the sweltering late-afternoon Oklahoma  sun jamming out to "I fought the law," I pass this older, hefty woman on a Harley. As I continued to the house I noticed that she had turned around and was following me. I'm always up for meeting someone as spontaneous as me so I was planning on stopping. To my surprise, it wasn't a large woman, but rather an older, hefty guy who then proceeded to ask me out for a drink (convenient living on a street with a bar, eh?). I politely declined since I had people to see and things to do.

Another Close Call

I stopped counting close calls a long time ago. I don't even consider being cut off by texting drivers as a close call anymore. I call that a fact of life.

But, today I had yet another one. So today after a nice coffee in town I was waiting for a clear window to make a left turn from the parking lot of the coffee shop. It's a four lane with a center turning lane. Turning into the turning lane didn't appeal to me since I'm pretty sure that's why I flunked my driver's test the first time.

So I found a window as soon as this car and truck (triangle) coming from the right had passed. It looked something like this:

All clear. So I lay on the throttle and am almost in the left lane behind that car when out of nowhere the triangle (truck) had slowed down and decided he wanted in my lane. No blinker, just elbowed right in. Trucks, I swear. Just because you feel like you're in a monster truck rally doesn't mean you have to drive like you're in one. And while we're on the subject a F-150 doesn't qualify for the monster rally... just sayin'.
So now my situation looks like this (yes, I can't even doodle with the help of Microsoft Word):

I've had a lot of close calls, as mentioned before, but I've never experienced any sort of adrenaline rush. I have this uncanny ability to remain calm. Time slows down a bit and the only excitement I can muster is "...Well, this isn't good."
Yup. That's about it. And, then I usually weigh my options and react. In this case I did some major leaning to my left when I noticed I was awfully close to the rear quarter panel of that monster rally wannabe truck. Braking didn't seem to fit the situation.

The best part is that the guy never even saw me.

Map- Waurika Loop

 

Click to enlarge. If you scroll down, you'll find the post that goes with this route. 

2 way highway= 2 lane hwy.

Figures

Since I'm currently on lock-down due to presentations, papers, and finals I'm all excited about my two week break. Especially since my plans mainly consist of riding, riding, and riding. Did I mention riding?

Looking at the weather report, and what do I see? Forecast is predicting rain, rain, and more rain.
*super sad puppy dog face*

No, you can't have my number

So, as my you-need-gas-soon-light came on, I decided I'd fill up before heading home. I pull into the gas station, and find myself in a conversation with a stranger. Don't get me wrong now, I'm all for random conversations with strangers and even a little flirting, but if you're 15 years my senior and do not ride AND you start the convo with "Where's your man at?" then there is no way in hell you're getting my number. As a matter of fact, a snowball stands a better chance surviving hell and maintaining its snowball-iness than you stand a chance of getting my number.

Also, mentioning your income level is not a selling point. In fact, I find it kind of vain.

Pervert dude: "Where's your man at?"
Me: *looks around.* *shrugs* "Hmph. Guess he must've fallen off..."

That reminds me of that shirt which reads "If you can read this then the bitch fell off" on the back. I really ought to buy that shirt.

Blueberry's 1st Mod

Yes, Blueberry finally got it's first modification: a driven 520 conversion kit. -1+2. And, it's blue. And, there's no more weird noise (a major perk).

So maybe changing the chain and sprockets the day before a major ride wasn't the greatest idea in the world. There's that hindsight thing again. But, it's not every day where a mechanically inclined friend is around to help you change your chain and sprockets. At least not every day in my world which is surrounded by cats. Just call me Little Edie. And, not the Drew Barrymore version of Little Edie. If you're gonna watch Grey Gardens, watch it right.

So it wasn't the most opportune time, but it was a time, nonetheless. We pulled off my old chain with a little drill-bit blade. Pulled off both sprockets. Put the new sprockets on and everything around it back on only to have to take it all back off. It wasn't until we were ready to put the chain on when I realized that I needed a chain-riveting tool. Yup. There I was with no back tire on my bike. And even if I had the back tire on, I wouldn't be able to go anywhere without a chain. So I did some major texting to try to track down a rider with this tool. I even found one who would loan it to me. Turns out that just because it looks like a great fit, don't cut the chain until absolutely certain. And, even IF you are certain, don't do it! It ended up being a few tiny millimeters too short. No pulling, stretching, dragging, squeezing, or praying could change that. Figures that all this would happen on a Sunday. A day where no local bike shop is open. A day where nothing wanted to go right. That's the kind of day it was.

Time to brainstorm...once again. It dawned on me that Cyclegear may sell master-links. I called the OKC branch and asked them to hold two master-links for me. So we had an unexpected 150 mile total road trip to take. For a couple of master links. Driving to OKC just for 8 oz of metal really is not my style. But, I wasn't about to let the possibility of a Talimena road trip slip through my fingers. While at Cyclegear, I also got oil and an oil filter for my next oil change. At least I didn't drive up for just 8 oz of metal. Back at the house, we put the chain and wheel back on Blueberry. So what if my chain now has two master-links instead of one. It's a frickin' blue chain! Looking back it probably also wasn't the brightest idea to test out a new chain so far away from home. Good thing these things never cross my mind when they ought to.

Lessons I've learned from this modification:
◦You need a chain rivet tool
◦Just because it looks like you can take one more link out, DON'T!
◦Buy an extra master link...or two.
◦When tightening the master link with the rivet tool, loosen the tool periodically and make sure the link's not on too tight.